Bulletproof
by Hellie Ace
Summary: The most dangerous men are those with nothing left to lose, especially regarding ex-special-forces-turned-mercenaries Alfred F. Jones and Ivan Braginsky. While from two separate worlds of bloodshed, their paths have crossed before. For what may be their final mission, everything has to come an end, no matter the tragedy. RusAme. Modern AU
1. Chapter 1: Lights on the Water

**Bulletproof**

**Chapter 1: Lights on the Water**

***waves* Hi everyone, look, Ahro and I have yet another thing to share with you! But this one is *gasp* Rusame. :) This one will be much shorter than our intent for Of Song and Claw and Survival 101, so yeah! Modern day mercenary story. Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Stepping from the Boeing 787 onto the enclosed boarding ramp had the American hissing through his teeth at the distinct drop in temperature. A gloved hand quickly went up to rub at his arm as he bounced from foot to foot as the other passengers made their way - at what felt like a snail's pace - into the airport terminal. If the ramp, having been sheltered from the blistering winds outside was cold, he could only imagine how it'd be being unprotected amidst the elements later. Of course he had had to accept a mission here, what would probably be his last mission for the American Government, trapped in the blisteringly cold weather of Russia.

Finally escaping the cold ramp, he breathed a sigh of relief as the warmth of the Pulkovo Airport greeted him. This was much better, but he knew it wouldn't last for long. His mind began to ponder the quickest way to get into a waiting vehicle before his body even managed to humor the thought of the cold again, when his thoughts were interrupted by the garbled Russian filtering out from the PA system. It was then his eyes alighted on a few signs around him. Aside from pictures to explain to non-native speakers, everything was in Cyrillic.

"Shit," was all he could say as people moved around his form. He suddenly remembered his phone and the recent app he had downloaded for just this occasion. Pulling it out in triumph, he stuck one of his earphones in and began to replay certain useful Russian words; he even attempted to say them under his breath. He was to meet with a man - his new partner - in the upcoming job his government had sent him off for, just as the Russian Federation had hired the latter to do as well. It was going to be a team effort. He only hoped this team would be able to communicate.

While he waited, his new partner finally arrived at the airport. The traffic had been a bit unexpected, and the terminals crowded and a bit difficult to shove through, but the Russian had managed.

Ivan left his SUV in the waiting area. He'd been pondering exactly what kind of partner their Russian-American company could have requested from the US government partner wise as wandered down the levels of the parking garage.

Walking into the crowded airport, he easily wove his way through the throngs of people. His heavy black pea coat neatly pressed with the silver buttons, and dark denims gave him a bit of a classy, but casual air. The violet scarf around his neck matched the tone of his rare violet eyes, but it was the attitude about him that parted the crowd. At a towering height of well above six feet, shoulders wide, chest thick and hardened jawline, Ivan was a man that commanded respect the instant people saw him. Collected confidence laced every smooth stride as he searched for any signs of his partner.

He'd refused to read the file provided for him, preferring to make his own judgements and gauge his perception skills rather than go on words printed in black ink. The only thing he'd bothered to glance at was the man's picture.

One man caught his attention though. He was the only one not moving, and seemed to be squinting at the boldly lettered signs as if they were alien gospel.

_Clearly doesn't speak Russian_, Ivan thought, groaning internally. He hadn't needed to speak any other language in nearly a year. His last assignment had been in Guatemala, but learning - or rather, trying to learn - Spanish had been a nightmare for such a short mission.

Silently coming up beside him, Ivan didn't bother to look at the shorter as he naturally spoke his native tongue. If he was right, the man would have no idea what he was saying, and very likely be the man assigned to him.

"Pardon, stranger. You wouldn't happen to be lost, would you?" he rumbled in his thick, suave voice. Glancing to him, he noted he had a few inches on the man, and a few pounds of muscle as well. But the foreigner certainly had a sturdy build about him, and a posture that suggested military training at its finest.

The American had since given up on deciphering the written language to what matched on his phone. It wasn't like he'd be suddenly graced with an understanding just by staring uselessly at the letters. He only wished he'd had more time to learn a bit of the language prior to being shipped out.

His personal space suddenly being encroached upon didn't get past the trained mercenary and ex-US soldier, but he felt a groan well up in his chest hearing the foreign words. He had no idea what the man had said, but nonetheless, tried the best he could to respond.

"Ya ne gavaryu pa rooskee," he attempted, trying to pronounce the phonetics from his phone, but knowing the obvious failure with his accent would allude that he obviously didn't speak Russian. Announcing that he didn't just seemed redundant. "Sorry, 'bout all I know."

At this he finally glanced up from the corner of his eye to quickly take note of the man's silver hair and striking violet eyes that had mesmerized him in the man's file. Though, reading stats of the man's height and weight were nothing like being in the direct presence of it. The man was a wall of muscle. It then only forced his awareness of his own posture and presence. He had traveled in casual business attire, now snug under a heavy navy overcoat. He assumed his hair was probably mussed from the long plane ride - as he knew he had slept most of the way - but he made a quick attempt to comb it to its usual part with his fingers. With a final adjustment to his glasses, he made to address the man again, taking heed to not draw suspicion.

"You... speak English?" He asked casually to the air in front of him. Even though he was ex-military, bringing any attention to himself in Russian territory wasn't the smartest move. He was to be undercover through this, as only the highest level of the Russian government knew of his true existence in their country.

"Not bad for an American, though your accent will be an issue. I suggest you let me do the talking if need be." Ivan smirked, having spoken in thickly accented English. "And I believe I have answered your question. I apologize though. I haven't had to speak it in many years."

The big Russian moved forward, assuming Alfred would know to follow him. The airport could get confusing, especially considering the American couldn't read the signs.

Alfred followed along, a sigh of relief blowing past his chapped lips at hearing the man's English. The accent added quite the interesting sound to the familiar words. It was rather pleasing to the American's ear. Foreign accents had always stirred his interest, but the thought only brought him back to another accent he had lost hearing a long time ago.

The sobering thoughts brought him to refocus on the taller man's back and the comment he'd made.

"Well, your English is excellent. Sorry you have to compensate for my shortcomings, though."

"It's not a problem. My last mission I was forced to learn Spanish, or at least, try." Ivan grimaced. "It didn't proceed well. Ah, my manners - my name is Ivan Braginsky. What would you prefer I call you?" Ivan asked, glancing over his shoulder to the blond."

"Ugh, Spanish. Another one I should have learned," he grumbled as he ran a hand back through his hair, his gaze drifting to look out a window to the swirling snowflakes in the air. "Alfred F. Jones. Can call me, Alfred, that's fine. Pleasure to meet you, Ivan."

The Russian nodded his acknowledgement and guided them out of the airport into the cold, brisk air. A swirl of dancing frost breezed through the open air, clinging to his black coat. Ivan dusted it from his shoulders before motioning out to the lights of the many buildings sparkling in the dusk.

"Care to see the city?"

Alfred followed a bit reluctantly due to the cold as the Russian moved outside of the warmth of the airport. The cold was biting as he shrugged deeper into his coat. He knew their mission wasn't easy, but the weather made Hell sound like a vacation.

At Ivan's question, Alfred was surprised. How much time did they have before their debriefing? He loved to sightsee, but was surprised by the man's hospitality. He hadn't expected anything else but pure business.

"Ahh, that sounds really awesome, but is there time?" He wanted to make a strong impression with his new partner, and as tempting as St. Petersburg was - the glow of the lights already weakening his resolve - he wasn't sure agreeing to downtime would give him much credit.

"The briefing is not until tomorrow morning at a cafe outside St. Isaac's cathedral. Besides that, I would feel rude not showing a guest around my city." Ivan paused just before the tall parking garage. While he wasn't a terrible host, Ivan had other motives as well. Gauging his new partner would be easiest when the man was hindered by the new cold and culture.

"The city is best enjoyed walking on foot, but if you're cold," Ivan cocked a brow obviously, "we can take my Renault."

Alfred had nodded at the information about the briefing, but quickly shook his head at the mention of driving. He didn't want it to look like he was weak because of a little cold.

"Ahh, no, let's walk. I'd rather experience your city the way it's best meant to be seen." He smiled, trying to force his teeth to stop chattering. Going into the city did sound like a good idea. He wouldn't mind finding some warmer clothing at a local shop.

"Do you need a better coat? Yours seems inadequate." Ivan tipped his head towards the city lights. "While it's late, there should be shops open, especially this far into the winter season. It's only going to get colder, or so the weather report says."

Alfred's eyes widened at the suggestion, as if the man had read his thoughts. Though trying to humor the notion that it could possible get any colder was not on Alfred's mental to-do-list.

"Ye-yeah, definitely! That'd be great, thanks!"

Ivan nodded, heading towards the bright golden domes of St. Isaac's Cathedral looming in the distance.

He led them along the Spilled Blood Canal, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Cars drove by, and few people walked by the railing. The cold night deterred most people from taking such a stroll, but the biting frost didn't seem to bother Ivan in the least. He watched the dark waters below, but spoke to Alfred.

"What training do you have, Alfred?"

As Alfred followed along beside the Russian, he found the cold wasn't bothering him as much as it had as his eyes drifted up to the stunning architecture, colors and lights, even in the evening. He began to wish he had brought a camera with him, but this wasn't meant to be a visit of leisure.

"Hmm, what?" Alfred had been mesmerized by the sights he almost missed Ivan's question. Though it threw him a bit off guard. He wasn't one to talk about such things in the open.

"Umm, well, you've seen my file I'm sure."

"I haven't," Ivan stated bluntly, his violet gaze never leaving the water. "I'm never inclined to believe anything the government prints." For a brief instant, he glanced to Alfred, gauging for his reaction. "So I know nothing about you, other than what you choose to tell me. I prefer missions without attachments involved.

"But you're looking like a tourist with all your gawking." The big Russian chuckled amusedly. "No one will take you seriously, and most will not understand your English either."

The last thing Alfred had expected was a confession regarding the man's own government. He was in agreeance with him though. Alfred had looked over Ivan's file, but he knew to never take everything at face value.

He kept his expression aloof as he veered to stop a moment along the waterway, peering into the dark waters and admiring the lights as they reflected off the smooth surface.

"True on the English bit. Not used to being somewhere I'm not understood." He shrugged, though he lowered his voice regardless. "And that's a smart and admirable method to follow. I can't say I hold much for my own government as well." Toying with the snow that had collected on the metal railing, Alfred spoke up, "I'm ex-Army and I've worked for a PMC. I specialized in long range and infiltration."

Ivan had paused when Alfred did. He rested his arms on the railing, draping himself leisurely over the broad guard. Violet eyes watched the water below without interest. He'd walked this canal a thousand times, and such simple thing didn't spark his interest anymore.

He couldn't help the grimace when Alfred mentioned he was but a mercenary. Ivan had been trained Spetsnaz before his desertion and return to an off-grid civilian life. While he detested the authority of government, he couldn't deny that his training had been elite and well worth the pain.

"What company did you belong to then? Dyncorp? Aegis?" Ivan asked, his gaze shifting to Alfred. He didn't like the idea of working with a man who had only ever fought for a paycheck.

Alfred shrugged as he pushed a pile of snow he had collected off to sprinkle into the water below.

Who he had worked for didn't really matter anymore. Nothing had mattered over the last two years. This job had come up out of the blue, and after the briefing of the risks involved, Alfred felt he had nothing to lose anyway.

"Use to be Aegis. But none of that much matters anymore." Adjusting his gloves, and shrugging more into his jacket, he turned back to the road, his tone changing to a brighter one to push away his encroaching past.

"How about that jacket? Or is the Astoria Hotel closeby? That flight was brutal."

It was only half the response Ivan was expecting, but when Alfred turned back towards the street, the big Russian shrugged. Maybe there was something to this American after all. Whatever it was, he would need more time to fully develop a proper opinion of the man. He just wished there was actually time to do such a thing.

"The Astoria? Hmph, rather posh for a mercenary, but the hotel is closer than any decent store." He motioned with the a nod of his head towards a rather tall building still quite visible despite the snow and darkness.

"That's it right there. I assume you can walk there on your own," Ivan dismissed, turning his attention back to the water. "It's best you don't wander. I'll find you in the morning and take you to the rendezvous. Just stay in your room and try not to look like so much of a tourist."

Alfred followed Ivan's gaze and about fell back a step at seeing such a grand looking building.

"Woah. Not the place I was expecting, either." His mind pondered exactly why he would be put up in such a grand hotel considering the financial crisis back home, but he shrugged it off. It had been paid for already. Wasn't his place to question the higher ups. Though his previous stays elsewhere had been a far cry from a five star hotel. He was lucky if his room wasn't infested with cockroaches.

"Alright, well, thanks for the directions. I'll try to be a bit more inconspicuous about my gawking at your city. 'Course, a tourist is a rather proper cover, right?" He threw back a wave to the Russian before shoving his hands back into his deep pockets and trudged onwards to the grand hotel he'd be staying at.

As he walked, he found his thoughts wandering to his new temporary partner. The man was professional, but didn't seem as cold as Alfred originally assumed. The man's methods were interesting, though. To not have even glanced at Alfred's file was the strangest by far. In a sense it eased some of Alfred's own worries as some of the information in his file he wasn't extremely proud of. Naturally, his boss thought otherwise, but Alfred would never admit to having any pride in his job. It was just a means of living, one he had been forced into and couldn't exactly escape.

But that would be changing soon.

Alfred hadn't even registered that he had entered the hotel until he was blasted by a wave of heat. The snow that clung to his glasses almost immediately began to melt, and he was forced to take them off to attempt to wipe them clean. Replacing them, he could finally take in the beauty that only repeated inside the massive lobby.

"_Dabro pazhalavat._" A voice came from his side causing Alfred to jump. He obviously didn't recognize the words and simply waved briefly. He could only assume it was a greeting from the clerk at the entrance. The man smiled and waved him forward to the receptionist, to which Alfred gladly obeyed. A five star hotel had to have employees that spoke some English, especially in a metropolitan city like St Petersburg.

"_Dobrey vecher!_" the woman greeted warmly as Alfred stepped forward. Alfred offered her a lopsided grin as he pulled out his wallet.

"Ahh, hello."

The receptionist's eyes widened knowingly, and smiled, "oh, English! Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Astoria."

Alfred blew a relieved sigh. He really didn't want to rely on his phone as a translator, nor did he really want to try and find Ivan to help him check into his room.

"Thank you, umm, I have a reservation." He handed over his fake ID. Government issued to him, but without anything to trace back to himself or his position. It made him wonder why he had easily given his real name to Ivan. He must have really slipped up since last time.

The woman busied herself with a computer, but as she did, her expression turned from cheerful to confused.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it seems we have no reservations for you."

"What? That can't be right? This is the Astoria?"

The woman nodded.

"Yes, sir, but I'm afraid your reservation was cancelled about ten hours ago."

Alfred groaned at this. He'd never run into a problem like this before. Unless something happened and someone was tipped off that he'd be staying here. Surely at the briefing in the morning he would find out any news.

"Well, thank you anyway." Alfred turned, listening to the woman try to pitch a room regardless but what money he had was not worth spending on a five star hotel room.

Stepping back out into the cold, he looked back up and down the street, his arms going up to rub at his arms. Now he needed to find some place to stay, and it was already extremely late.

_Shit_. He turned and began to walk back the way he had come. He had no service on his cellphone out here, so heading back to the airport would hopefully turn up a map with other hotels he could stay at. Though as he walked along, his eyes caught familiar silver hair, quickly forcing a thank you from under his breath as he jogged back up to the man.

"Ivan!" he called out, beyond thankful the man had stuck around. Then realizing his predicament, he felt his face flush at just how desperate this was going to sound.

"Ahh, well, this is awkward. Seems my reservation was cancelled during my flight here for some reason..." he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck, "you wouldn't happen to know a cheap place I could stay around here?"

Ivan cocked a brow at someone calling his name. Drawn from his thoughts, the Russian looked up from the water, catching the sight of the young American jogging up to him. A smirk graced his thin lips as he leaned back on the railing.

"Seems as if your government saw the price of a room and decided you weren't worth it. Not surprising." Ivan blew a strand of his silver hair from his face nonchalantly. These things happened. There was no such thing as a perfectly smooth mission.

"You shouldn't be staying in a poor hotel if you can't speak Russian. Getting swindled isn't hard if you're clueless." Ivan sighed, knowing Alfred likely wouldn't have a lot of money on him, seeing as how a large amount of cash would only draw attention.

"Your safest option is to stay at my flat, I suppose. It's already late, and I'd rather just go home then try to find a hotel at this hour. You can sleep on the couch. I have a heater as well, so at the very least, you won't freeze to death."

Alfred sighed, though he admitted he'd rather not feel guilty about staying at a high class hotel for a mission on US tax dollars. However, surprise did come at the Russian's offer. It seemed almost too lucky. He felt himself grow a bit cautious. This was the man in the photo he was to partner with, but after losing his place to stay, and having the man wait around as if expecting him to return seemed a bit strange.

"Well, that's really kind of you." He admitted his chances without knowing the language were slim, but he would be sure to not drop his guard either. "I'm sorry I have to intrude on you like this. This hasn't happened to me before."

"Don't get excited, American. I'd rather have my flat to myself, but I doubt our employer would appreciate me letting you wander around Petersburg helplessly." Ivan rubbed at his eyes tiredly, finally realizing how late it actually was.

"So consider yourself lucky. I've had to sleep under parked tanks and in mud huts plenty of times. Even walking into the Astoria is a privilege." Unhitching his cold-stiff body from the railing, Ivan started back towards the airport with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He didn't look back at Alfred when he spoke, but let the cold wind carry it back for him.

"But you're welcome. I try not to be too inconsiderate to work partners either."

Alfred followed along quietly, only having nodded in response. He was also extremely tired, and even the thought of a space heater was a welcome against the blistering cold. He'd spent his own fair share of sleeping in the elements, and he hadn't looked forward to doing so again. Especially without any gear. His equipment was to be picked up at a drop site, but that was to be found out after the briefing.

"Umm," they had been walking in silence for quite a while, and Alfred didn't feel right not offering anything to the man in return for his hospitality. He could have easily let Alfred fend for himself. Ex-Spetsnaz didn't exactly work in teams or ever have partners too often as far as he knew.

"Here. For your trouble in all of this." He held out a small envelope with what money he had exchanged into rubles. "Putting up your partner wasn't exactly in the contract agreement."

Ivan grunted, shoving the envelope back to the American.

"I don't want your money," he decreed, perfectly honest as he fished in his pocket for his car keys. The walk had managed to get them to the garage where Ivan had left his SUV. As he pulled them out and unlocked the jet-black vehicle, he spoke, ushering Alfred to get in on the other side.

"There isn't a lot in contract agreements that I give a damn about. But I need you in decent condition if you're going to keep up with me. Sleeping with roaches in a shitty motel isn't going to keep you in top form."

The drive to Ivan's flat wasn't overly long, and the Russian had to admit he didn't mind the heat blowing from his beloved vehicle's air vents all the while. So he was a bit reluctant to get out as they arrived, but made sure his pace was brisk as he walked up to the door. Upon entering, Ivan flicked on the lights and glanced to Alfred. He pointed vaguely towards the kitchen.

"That's the kitchen - don't eat my food. Over there is the bathroom, my room is just past it, and the porch is beyond that door." He gestured rather haphazardly to things, not exactly comfortable showing anyone - let alone a stranger - his tiny home. Books, newspapers and bullets were strewn just about on every open surface. Clippings from articles on bombings, terrorist attacks and other global misconducts were tacked on a corkboard that hung next to the fridge. And a single exploded bullet casing sat on the mantelpiece above the hearth beside a small cross. But other than that, the flat was fairly clean and the couch only had a coat and a small manual on ordinance grenades strewn on the backing. Ivan swept them into his arms and motioned to the couch.

"And that's your bed."

Alfred had walked in and observed the modest apartment. It wasn't much different from his own. He didn't keep much around any more, not really finding a need to. It was interesting to note the lack of family photos or anything really personal. Perhaps this wasn't his main home? It would explain it. In their line of work, having family pictures around only gave potential enemies a link on how to get to you.

Alfred inwardly hissed as his fists clenched at his sides.

_Picture frames smashed. Windows broken. Fresh blood pooling from…_

"S-shit!" He cursed under his breath as he found himself stumbling a bit. His hand going up to his head as he braced against the door frame.

Ivan looked back, but immediately furrowed his brow in concern upon seeing Alfred slump against the threshold.

"Alfred." Ivan shook his shoulder, having closed the gap between them in a single stride. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

Gritting his teeth, Alfred pushed himself back up using the support of the doorframe. Ivan's voice sounded muffled to him in that moment, but the shaking seemed to help clear his mind.

"Ugh- s-sorry… sorry, it's nothing." He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, brushing his glasses up his face as he did. "Just a sudden headache is all. Probably from flying for so many hours," he lied, stepping away from Ivan to try and regain his composure.

Dropping his duffle bag against the foot of the couch, he kneeled down to rummage through it for something to sleep in.

"Thanks again for lettin' me stay here."

Ivan didn't linger beside Alfred when the man moved away. He blinked curiously, but Alfred seemed steady enough on his feet again. It wasn't his place to question Alfred, even if he didn't honestly believe him.

"As I said it's fine." Ivan walked into the nearby bathroom, grabbed a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet, and returned to Alfred.

"Here," he said, tossing the pain-relievers to Alfred as he passed him to head to his bedroom. "Your best chance is to sleep it off, but those will help. Now sleep, we have too much to do tomorrow for you to be up at these hours."

Alfred nodded as he caught the bottle of pills, eager to put the entire day behind him. He did have a mild headache, which had him tossing back three capsules for good measure. It would certainly help him sleep. He didn't see his dreams being very pleasant ones.

"Thanks." Pulling out some sweatpants, an old t-shirt, his toothbrush, and toothpaste, Alfred walked over to the vacant bathroom - needing a moment to gather himself under the pretense of getting ready for bed. He was thankful Ivan didn't pry, but his pride was hurt that he showed such weakness before the man.

_Get it together. This is the last one, and it'll be over._

Looking at himself in the mirror, he blew out a sigh, seeing the dark circles under his eyes had only grown more prominent. At this point, he summed it up to them just being permanent, but he hoped his ragged appearance wouldn't upset his new partner. He needed this mission. Needed to see it through to the end, and he needed an out.

Turning on the faucet, he splashed some cold water on his face before seeing to his teeth. After he was finished, he quietly made his way back to the living room - minding his belongings as to not become a nuisance to the Russian. It seemed the man had gone to sleep. The apartment was quiet, and only the light from the streetlamps below broke through the open blinds into the main room.

As he contemplated the couch for a moment, he then thought about his insecurities in regards to the bizarre events that wound himself in his partner's home. Curious to see that the man was sleeping, he crept quietly to the slightly open door that lead to Ivan's bedroom.

Edging as quietly as he could, he peeked into the man's room, all in an attempt to settle his own nerves that nothing was amiss.

The distinct click of Ivan's Kimber pistol being cocked resounded through the near silent apartment. The man lay across his bed, one arm folded behind his head as a casual pillow while the other trained the sidearm at Alfred's heart.

"Nosy American." Ivan scoffed, smirking up at the ceiling, never letting his grip on the Kimber falter. "Any good reason you're in my room?"

That familiar click wasn't all too unexpected - Alfred slept with a gun at all times as well, especially since that day he'd lost it all. Though for the Russian to be on guard, Alfred knew the man wasn't with the enemy. He blew out a sigh of relief, even while knowing a trained Spetsnaz soldier had a gun aimed at his heart.

"Ahh, sorry, was just wonderin' where ya might have some extra blankets stashed?" he asked casually, though a glint from the light hit off the man's pistol and Alfred's eyes widened a moment. "That's a nice piece, by the way. Got good taste there."

Ivan flashed his canines with a knowing smirk before flipping the safety on. He set the pistol down on his stomach, motioning with a flourish of his wrist back towards the hallway.

"Spare linen I keep in the hall closet you passed to spy on me."

"Hey, strange place, strange circumstances, can't blame a guy for being cautious." Alfred shrugged with a bemused smirk.

Ivan shrugged but didn't miss Alfred's comment about his Kimber from before either. The Russian absently tugged at his scarf some, remembering the scar that it concealed on his neck. The gun and the scar had come from the same faulty mission.

"Kimber is a quality company for sidearms," Ivan mused allowed, running his fingers over the feathered grip. "I brought this gun home with me from a mission in Africa a couple years ago."

Leaning on the doorframe, Alfred then nodded his head in the direction of the Kimber.

"They are a fine make. Can't go wrong with good 'ol American firearms." Alfred chuckled some, unable to hold back some boasting for his own country's craftsmanship.

Though, hearing the comment about Africa made him pause, but he forced himself through it with faint interest.

"Oh, you had a stint in Africa? I... had a brief time there myself." He pondered, remembering back to that time as not one of his best moments.

Ivan nodded, rolling his eyes at the American's boosterism. He felt his neck itch uncomfortably though. He resisted the urge to scratch at it, and turned his head to cock a brow at Alfred instead.

"Did you? Hmph, I can't say I much enjoyed it there. It wasn't exactly the most moral of jobs, and the pay certainly wasn't worth the hassle, legality and injuries. I'm not inclined to return any time soon."

"Emm," Alfred agreed, his eyes beginning to wander a bit to the scarf the man still wore around his neck.

_A scarf and silver hair..._

"Alright, well, I'll get out of your hair. Thanks again. Sorry if I disturbed you." He then moved away from the door to see to grabbing that blanket he had asked about. After having almost lost half the linen on the floor in his attempt at pulling a spare comforter out, he finally made his way back to the couch. Settling in, his mind began to wander to that one time in Africa, where he'd first missed his mark.

* * *

**Tada! The chapters will be close to this length too, so not nearly the heavy payloads Survival and OSC dish out. :) Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Leave them all in that little review box for us! ;D You can follow either (or both) of us on Tumblr for updates on all our stories plus fanart and teasers! Hellieace. tumblr. com and ahro. tumblr. com**


	2. Chapter 2: Kiss and Tell

**Bulletproof**

**Chapter 2: Kiss and Tell**

* * *

**Hello again everybody! ^^ Sorry for the delay on this, but it's finally up! Yay!**

**Reviews:**

**Guest 1: THIS IS REALITY, MY FRIEND! I understand your tears of happiness, and it's super awesome we get to bring them to you! Thanks for the awesome review, deary!**

**Guest 2: Grazie!**

**Tamagoakura: Yeah, a lot of it can't be avoided since it's an rp. We do our best. And this will absolutely have plenty of action! ^^**

**More please: Sure thang~! ;)**

* * *

Ivan had slept with the Kimber tucked against him. It was just a precaution he thought to take despite the American's friendly appearance. He simply didn't like the fact that he could hear the man walking about this early in the morning, but figured Alfred probably had trouble sleeping with his body out of sorts from the flight.

Yawning, the Russian hauled himself out of bed to blearily clear his eyes of sleep. Popping the sleep-stiff joints of his back and arms, Ivan dragged his way into the open room that made up the majority of his flat. His violet gaze immediately flicked to Alfred, who appeared to be gazing out onto the balcony from the sliding glass doors.

Scratching his bare chest, Ivan addressed him.

"You're up earlier than expected."

Hearing Ivan up hadn't stolen the American's gaze away from the balcony. He had been up for a while now, needing to put the distress from his dreams behind the familiar mask he always wore.

"It takes a bit for me to grow adjusted. Though, I did sleep better knowin' someone was armed in the place." He didn't turn around as he spoke, still staring out at the street below. It was quiet, and only a few cars had driven by since he took his post. It was bit of a habit of his to mind for the familiar glint off the lens off a scope. So far he had seen nothing amidst the trees off past the road. Chances were high they had gone unfollowed.

Ivan took a seat on the couch, draping his arms along the backing. He curiously wondered just why Alfred seemed to be at such a sentinel stance. The Russian decided to prod a bit.

"You look as if you're waiting for something. What is it, exactly?"

A brief smirk lit Alfred's lips as he parted a single blind before turning around to address the Russian.

"Nah, just a habit I've formed. Oh, hope you don't mind my pryin', but I couldn't help but notice this." He gestured to the small cross with the blown out bullet cartridge sitting next to it. "I like to pay my respects to such things. You mind?"

Ivan let his eyes slip shut, drawing in a deep breath to quell a bad memory.

"I wouldn't pay homage to such things. That bullet stole an innocent woman's life because I was a careless rookie with shaky hands. My only hope is that if I leave a cross there, God will look after her soul in Heaven." His reply was honest and raw. The Russian wasn't one to delude himself. He'd messed up, and someone had died because of it. It was his fault, and so in his eyes, the woman's soul was his responsibility.

Alfred smiled, "I only mean to pay homage to the memory. I'm... not unfamiliar with such displays." He thought sadly, wishing his act had been so few, but what he did he did under an order, and saved countless more because of it. Though, even now, the memory has forever ate at him.

Turning to the mantel, he made the sign of the cross and said a prayer under his breath. It was short and brief, but it eased his mind.

"Rememberin' your mistakes is what separates us from them." His voice dropped to just above a whisper as he looked back out the window. "I'll never forget mine."

Ivan watched with somber curiosity. He barely caught the American's words, but couldn't help wondering silently.

_What is it you never forget? Your mistake?_ Ivan paused himself, thoughts darkening as he mused about a cloud of darkness that lingered in his heart. _Or your enemy, your 'them'?_

"Remembering only brings pain and conviction. Both can be deadly." Ivan merely shrugged though, not caring to remember exactly how he came about his dogmatism. "But this isn't talk for so early in the morning."

Alfred thought about replying, but agreed to some lighter banter. Their time ahead would be filled enough without adding even more morose talk. Best to enjoy the easier moments now while they could.

"Got that right. Have any coffee?"

Ivan furrowed his brows at both the sudden request and tried to recall if he'd remembered to buy coffee grounds this week. The last trip to any store had been too arbitrary to remember, and so the Russian shrugged.

"See for yourself," he said, motioning towards the kitchen. "Make a cup for me while you're there." Ivan smirked, casually leaning back on the sofa, wondering if Alfred would actually do it.

"Emm, 'k." Alfred yawned a moment as he casually walked over to the kitchen. Even as he made an attempt at ignoring it, he couldn't help the brief flicker of his eyes across the Russian's chiseled chest, broad shoulders and thick arms. The man was built like a beast! The idea was certainly sending his thoughts to his own body. He kept it in good shape, but as of late he had grown a bit soft.

Shaking his head, he pondered about the kitchen, thinking where the obvious place most people kept coffee and eventually found a tin of instant in the pantry.

"Yeah, you need coffee, dude. All you've got is instant." He spoke up off handedly as he found two mugs and started to heat up a kettle of water on the stove.

The Russian nodded, watching Alfred through the large viewing window into the kitchen. He hadn't been out for groceries in quite some time, so it wasn't altogether surprising that they were low on coffee.

"I haven't restocked in a while. I'm getting lazy and unmotivated in my old age," the older jested, rolling his thick shoulders to work out the kinks. "But don't be too disappointed. The rendezvous is a cafe I like to visit. You can always get a decent mug of coffee there."

"Ooh, sounds good." Alfred hummed as he moved back to lean against the entryway to the kitchen to look back at the Russian. "And what are you talkin' 'bout, old age? You're what... forty-somethin'?" Alfred teased, waving his hand in the air as he plucked out a number.

"Nosy and rude," Ivan scoffed in good-nature, flashing his canines in a smirk, "I'll have you know I'm only in my thirties." Violet eyes looked the American up and down with an appreciation this time. He noted the man's fine figure before, but in the early morning haze clouding his proper judgement, he thought Alfred rather handsome. Of course, that didn't stop Ivan from teasing.

"At least I don't appear fresh-faced enough to look like I'm sixteen," Ivan barked back.

Alfred sputtered, "fresh faced? Shall see how fresh-faced I look while poised behind my Barrett." He grinned as he heard the kettle beginning to whistle, turning his attention back into the kitchen.

Taking the kettle off, he then proceeded to fill up each mug already prepared with the powdered coffee inside. He preferred his own black and assumed the same for the Russian. Resting the kettle back on a cool spot on the stove, he returned to the living room and held out the mug to the older man.

"I didn't see any creamer, so I assumed black was fine. Unless it isn't, and such a dainty man like yourself needs some hazelnut creamer to take off that edge." Alfred smirked, enjoying their casual banter as he flopped down in a chair opposite the couch.

"And I'm twenty-eight for your information," he added, bringing the mug to his lips and taking a sip.

Ivan grinned, "I can tell you I won't look anything like an old man with my AA-12 across my back. You'll be thanking God I still have a young man's body come this mission." The Russian shook his head as he accepted the mug.

"Dainty?" Ivan smirked. "What does that make you then? Scrawny? Emaciated? Huh, but we're only a few years apart. It's strange how young you look though."

Alfred's brows perked up at the mention of the man's weapon as he held his mug to his lips. Already picturing the particular shotgun resting against the Russian's shoulder, aimed readily at their enemy. The man's muscles coiled with anticipation of the recoil as he trained striking violet eyes down the steel sights.

Shaking his head, he coughed some as he briefly inhaled his current sip of jo.

_What are you thinking? Knock that off._

Trying to regain his composure, Alfred commented on the latter statement. "Heh, it's just all that healthy vitamin D." He smirked, taking pride in his well maintained tan and trying to take the attention away from the heat he had felt rise in his cheeks.

Ivan rolled his eyes.

"While you're getting soft on the beach, I prefer to toughen up in the sub-zero temperatures of a Russian Winter." The man laughed before swallowing down the rest of the coffee, enjoying the way it warmed his insides. He shooed Alfred away with a gesture.

"Grab all the information your government gave you and get ready to leave. We're going to be late for our meetup if you keep up all this school-girl blushing." Ivan grinned devilishly as he rose, setting his mug down before striding back to his room to get properly dressed.

Alfred's mind still whirled around what the man had said before they left. He was beyond embarrassed his mind had conjured such images, but it wasn't like the Russian didn't make it easy. Extremely easy, actually.

Biting back his frustration at himself, he instead focused on the obnoxious cold that bit at his nose and ears.

"Have ya ever been to Florida? You should really check it out. Think you'd be less of a hardass without worrying whether your ears are gonna fall off," he complained, mainly to himself, as he blew into his leather gloved hands as they walked down the street to their meeting place.

"I have never been to your country. Perhaps I'll visit someday, but until then, stop complaining. It gets even colder outside the city," Ivan teased, leading them through the streets of St. Petersburg as they had before. Ivan had left his vehicle in an alley where it couldn't be seen. He didn't like driving up to places he frequented, lest someone hostile remember his SUV or license plate. The last thing he needed was being discovered when his military and government ID papers clearly said 'killed in action'.

The cafe they entered was small, but decorated in blues and golds and was quite warm on the inside. Few people milled about, but as Ivan locked eyes with one of the baristas for a brief moment, she nodded and vanished into the back.

It wasn't long before another woman appeared, dressed in luxurious furs and looking cocky. She sat down at a table away from everyone else, but not far enough away to make her look suspicious. Ivan groaned.

"Why her?" he grumbled under his breath as he ushered Alfred to sit beside him as he took a seat across from the woman.

"Good to see you again, Ivan," the woman chimed.

"Spare the pleasantries, Elise."

"Still mad about Guatemala?"

"I will never not be mad about Guatemala."

The woman tsked, but quickly diverted her green gaze to Alfred.

"Aww, he's cute. Alfred, right?"

"Cute!" Alfred responded indignantly. His profession alone should have naturally obliterated such a term in describing him.

"Hmph, a cat is cute, not a sniper," he added before nodding at his name. "Yes, Alfred." He'd add on his rank but being where they were it wasn't advisable to outwardly state such information. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Elise." He might have been put off by the woman's comment, but he was still raised to be a gentleman.

Elise pleasantly shook his hand, smiling slyly at the American before rummaging through a small purse she kept at her side. She pulled out a small stack of photos, neatly arranging them before the two men.

"This is where we suspect a Czech drug lord has set up his new meth lab, hoping for good clientele in Russia. The location isn't absolute, but these satellite photos clearly show unauthorized activity. And from what we can decipher of their codes, this would be isolated enough for them to operate safely."

"And what exactly are we supposed to do? Information gathering I assume?" Ivan asked, both keeping their voices low to avoid prying ears. Elise shook her head, a somber expression on her visage.

"You're to neutralize all threats, break down any equipment, and bring back any information you find. If you do not return in a timely manner, the place is going to be wiped off the map to avoid backtracking to the Federation or the US government along with your company."

Stacking the photos, she set them aside to hand them a small envelope each.

"That contains all the times and dates you will need to accomplish your task by, all enemy information we could gather and train tickets to get you to the town closest to your target. From there, you'll have to walk."

Elise sat back with a smug smile.

"Any questions, gentlemen?"

Alfred pondered the woman curiously.

_Bring back what? If it's a meth lab, locations of the drug lord's other establishments would be enough, especially if they are intent on wiping the place entirely. Something's not right with this._

Alfred furrowed his brow a moment before hiding it behind his casual demeanor.

"Sounds pretty straightforward to me." He leaned back in his chair, one arm slinging over the back as he nodded to the Russian. "How about you big guy?"

_Should I voice my concern to him on this later? No. Best wait and see if he says anything. I could be over analyzing this as well._

Ivan merely shook his head to mean no, but didn't miss the odd pet name either. He'd bring that up later, but for now, he just wanted Elise gone.

"Very well," she said after gathering her things and rising. With a ladylike curtsey, she bid them farewell and good luck before vanishing into the streets.

"I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw her," Ivan grunted, watching her retreating back until the crowd swallowed her up. "And neither should you. She nearly had me executed in Guatemala, and before that, set me up with a job in Africa that nearly cost me my life as well." He rubbed at his neck, tugging at his scarf haphazardly.

Alfred nodded his agreement. He didn't trust lightly. Didn't trust the Russian much either, but he made it a point to be underestimated.

"Sounds like a pretty tough broad." He nodded absently as he swung his arms up behind his head. He did catch the strange motion he had now seen the man do twice to his neck and scarf, each time after a mention of Africa. It worried Alfred a bit, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as something to ponder later.

Ivan sneered as he unfolded the papers Elise had handed him.

"I would enjoy the company of a venomous snake more than her. Unfortunately, she's excellent at what she does; the best, in fact. It's the reason the government keeps her around despite her black market affairs." He looked up at Alfred, negatively regarding his casual image as if Ivan's warning hadn't fazed him. "Never trust a woman that sells human intestines as snake oil to extremists in Malaysia."

Alfred felt himself blanch at the thought and waved off the idea of food.

"Ugh, well thanks for dashin' my appetite, pal."

Ivan rose from his seat, quickly tucking the photos and papers away in his jacket pockets.

"Well, be thankful she didn't seem intent on killing you. Where else would intestines come from, other than those she leads to suicidal missions? She's still intent on mine," Ivan growled distastefully, having more than a few revolting talks with the woman and her callousness.

"I don't assume anyone isn't intent on killing me. Reason why I'm still here. That and I've just got rad skills like that." Alfred smirked playfully. "No worries, though. You've got me as a partner, so we'll just have to disappoint her again."

"Rad?" Ivan furrowed his brows, blinking in confusion. The word sounded confusing on his tongue as his thick accent made it obnoxious to say in the first place. He wondered if it was his less than perfect English or maybe the American was just making up words at this point.

Shaking his head, he finally stood up to head for the counter, "What do you want? The owners here don't speak English."

"Oh, umm, just a large coffee is good. Feel like I should have brought along that space heater." He thought offhandedly as he dug out the envelope of rubles, not expecting the man to pay for Alfred's drink, before handing him up a few bills, completely unsure of how their currency worked.

The Russian ignored Alfred's offering, walking up to the counter and ordering coffee for both himself and the American. Upon returning, he rather ungracefully flopped down in his chair, rubbing at his temples.

"The train tickets are for early tonight. We have much to do before then. Check your papers, it's likely to tell you where your drop off is to collect your gear. We'll need to get to my storage container as well."

Alfred nodded in regards to his own papers and a quick stop by the Russian's storage container. He already knew the drop point was going to be rather off the beaten path, nearer their destination. It wouldn't be an easy thing to get to.

Ivan took a gulp of the hot liquid, swirling it lightly in his hand.

"I hate to sound paranoid. But are you feeling apprehensive about this mission at all?"

Alfred took another swig of his coffee and raised his brows at Ivan's question.

"Emm... can't remember a time where I wasn't skeptical about a mission. Calling in two specialists with our skills to bust a drug lord seems a bit overkill." He spoke into his cup, blocking his lips and keeping his voice low.

Ivan sat back with the coffee cup balanced on a powerful thigh. His violet eyes swept over the place cautiously as ever, but flicked back to the American at the mention of being overkill.

"Regular police forces could have handled this, unless there's something they're not telling us. It's not unlikely we'll be walking into a firefight. Elise mentioned the drug lord was Czech. They're rather notorious through Eastern Europe. I wouldn't be surprised if the lab was heavily armed. But that's not what's bothering me. It's the fact that they dragged Elise into it. She's only around for the most distasteful of operations."

"Emm, well, I'll certainly take your word for it. I don't remember ever seein' her name on any of my contracts."

Ivan shook his head, downing the rest of coffee before crushing the cup.

"Come, give me the coordinates for your drop so we can hurry this along."

Finishing up his own drink, Alfred stood up, offering his letter to Ivan with the coordinates, eager himself to get going. Not only that, but he was missing his gun.

Ivan took the offered envelope, quickly reading the coordinates, memorizing them, and then handing it back to Alfred.

As they made their way back to Ivan's hidden Renault Duster, he got into the car, opened the glove compartment and pulled out a rather large map. Setting it across the dash he skimmed his fingers along the guidelines to pinpoint the coordinate.

"Ugh, that's a ways out, but we'll have to pass my storage unit on the way to the train station, which thankfully won't divert too much time." As he spoke he carefully backed the Duster out of the alley and onto the main road that would take them just outside the city.

The Duster bumped along as the city vanished, the suburbs dissipated some and more rural area lay before them. Ivan carefully made his way down a winding road that led to a tiny hunting lodge surrounded by thin, snow covered trees.

Ivan killed the ignition, stepping out of the SUV with a curious expression.

"Well, I can't imagine any other place they would deposit your gear out in this area." He glanced to Alfred, ushering him to go first.

"I saw they left the keys in the envelope."

Alfred nodded, slipping the keys from the envelope and hopping out of the car. He groaned at the blast of frosty air but pushed past it, grumbling the whole way as he stuck the key into the lock. It slipped in easily - much to Alfred's appreciation - and pulled off the lock before undoing the latch.

Opening up the door, he was greeted with little except for an obvious pile on the floor covered over by a tarp.

"Well, that isn't inconspicuous." Stepping in he removed the tarp and was greeted with a large bag of his gear, along with a very familiar long case which held his precious Barrett M107A1. "Oh yes, there is my baby." He cooed as he lifted up the bag and case. Turning back to Ivan, he grinned widely, more than ready to get to their destination and show her off.

"Alright, off we go!"

The trip back took them until the sun was dipping below the tall steeples of the many churches along the canals. The storage units weren't far from the train station, and as Ivan pulled up to his, he ordered Alfred to stay put.

"This won't take long," he said, getting out to unlock the rolling doors. He flicked on the lights to the dark unit, and quickly made for the back of it. Hauling out a large black case, he opened the Duster's hatch and set it in. A pair of duffel bags came along too, tucked beside Alfred's Barrett case.

Shutting the hatch and the rolling door alike, Ivan locked both before climbing into the driver side of the SUV.

"Now then," he started, pulling out their tickets and handing one to Alfred. "When we get to the station, don't do your usual perimeter scan. The police and guards might notice you're trained and be suspicious. Act like that gawking tourist you were playing so well before." Ivan smirked briefly at Alfred as he drove. "If you act casual, they won't ask to see our bags or ID. It's as simple as that. We have a reserved sleeping car, so once we're on board, there shouldn't be any officials."

Ivan parked his SUV, and climbed out to gather his bags and waited for Alfred to follow after him. As they walked into the crowded station, Ivan remember his own advice and kept his head bowed slightly. They walked with the crowd, getting on the train without any issues. Making their way to the back, Ivan sighed as he finally shut the door to their reserved sleeping car and heard it seal behind him.

"I hate trains. Too many damned people," he grumbled in Russian, tucking away his duffel bags. Just as he went to put away the case with his shotgun, a knock came on the door and a pair of men dressed in uniform entered with haughty expressions.

"Bag inspection," the taller said, obviously in Russian, before adding, "for everyone's safety, of course."

"Of course," Ivan returned with a polite smile despite the fact his innards twisted in revolt. He stepped back from his bags, hands at his chest in the universal sign of surrender. The officers stepped forward, one to look at the bag, and one to collect Ivan's ID. As the latter drew close, Ivan grabbed him by the shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. The officer's companion glared at the violet-eyed man suspiciously but as his partner turned around and gestured for him to back away from the case, he did.

The officer Ivan had whispered to held out a hand expectantly, and Ivan fished in his pockets for his wallet. He handed the man all the cash he had, but the officer shook his head.

"Not enough, friend," the man growled smugly. Ivan merely smiled as bright as ever as he moved around him. Without a single word of explanation, he shoved his large hand in Alfred's pocket and took the envelope filled with rubbles. Handing it to the officer, the man peeked in, seemed satisfied, and tipped his hat in thanks.

But just when Ivan was about to relax, the man grabbed him in turn and growled something in his ear. Ivan cocked a brow as the man drew back, arms crossed expectantly and looking terribly too amused with himself.

Ivan merely rolled his eyes, but approached Alfred once more. Fisting Alfred's hair, the Russian tipped his head back some before crashing his lips to Alfred's. The silver-haired man forced his tongue into the younger's mouth, dominating him as the two officers laughed maliciously as if it couldn't have been a better prank.

They called rather harsh things in Russian that Ivan was glad Alfred wouldn't understand before clapping the big Russian's shoulder as he broke away from the kiss.

The two officers left, dividing the money up between them as they vanished into the next car.

As they left, Ivan dropped his pseudo-smile for a sneer.

"Government pigs," he growled out in Russian before flopping down into his seat. His gaze flickered to Alfred before he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"You taste like toothpaste and bad coffee," he quipped smugly.

Alfred's eyes felt like they had permanently been stuck wide open even after the men had left and Ivan stepped back. It wasn't until he felt the blossoming heat in his face that he was pulled from his state of complete shock.

"Wha- what was that?"

Ivan quirked a brow at the American's bright red blush before laughing heartily. He couldn't stop himself for a few moments, clutching his ribs as if they hurt him. Chuckling lightly, he thought to explain. Leaning back to sit comfortably, he spoke with a predatory grin showing his white teeth.

"I bribed them with some money and a show. They thought I wouldn't kiss you, or wouldn't enjoy it, at the very least."

Alfred settled back in his seat looking rather put off as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's rude. Could have gotten away with more and saved the money." He smirked before leaning back, hooking his arms up behind his head. "And you weren't all minty fresh either. You even brush your teeth before we left?" Alfred teased.

Curious, Ivan tipped his chin up in a sly grin.

"If I knew you wouldn't have minded, I could have saved us all of it." The Russian licked his lips absently, suddenly a bit more curious about the American now that he knew he had a preference Ivan could certainly fulfil.

"I don't think you had a decent enough taste if that was the only impression I left." Ivan motioned leisurely for Alfred to come over to him if he wanted to. "Care for a better sample of me?"

"Hmm, not so sure how professional that is." Alfred pondered, raising a brow at Ivan with a sly grin, though he was certainly surprised the man batted for the other team. If anything he was thankful for the forced situation to break the ice. Thinking there could be some other fun to be had on this mission was intriguing.

"Being forced into a situation like that is one thing. Need weapons to complete this mission after all." He started, his eyes beginning to trail up and down the man's built form before lingering on wet lips. He then got up and strolled up to the Russian, looking down the bridge of his nose at the man as he came to stand just short of his spread legs. "My only worry is would this affect your ability on the field?" He chided amusedly, parting his lips slightly with a smirk.

Ivan felt a faint heat creep through his veins, sluggishly making him realize exactly how attractive the younger was. Sure, he looked too young for his prescribed age, but he had such a definite confidence and masculinity about him that Ivan couldn't help but enjoy the sight before him.

"We're going to be camped outside a snow-covered meth lab in the middle of nowhere. I certainly wouldn't mind getting used to some body heat. After all, staying warm is going to be a challenge. Knowing I wouldn't have to worry about that would only motivate me that much more," he finished, violet eyes hooded and a sly grin on Ivan's moist lips.

Alfred grinned only more confidently at Ivan's response. He then brought a knee up onto the seat between Ivan's legs before bracing himself on the back of the seat, hands on either side of the Russian's head.

"Well then, I'm all for benefiting the success of the mission. When duty calls..." he trailed off, leaning forward now and pressing his knee up to grind slightly against Ivan's groin. "Take every advantage, da?" Alfred mocked with a soft laugh as he shortened the gap between their heated breaths, wanting Ivan to cave and take as he had before.

The American's knee rubbing against his groin sent arousal flaring through Ivan's nerves, making the Russian rumble a pleased purr. Even hearing a single syllable breathed hotly in his own tongue sent the violet-eyed man's aggression high. A broad hand came up to grip Alfred's hair and he forced his lips to Alfred's with desire. Without hesitation he plunged his tongue into Alfred's eager mouth, immediately tangling their tongue as his free hand came up to leisurely slip under the younger's coat and shirt at his hip.

Alfred's eyes widened at the sudden forcefulness, but he was far from disappointed. Eyes closing, a moan vibrated up his throat as he met Ivan's tongue with equal vigor. His hands trailed up to tangle in silver locks as he forced back against the broad man.

The minute Ivan's hands touched Alfred's skin, he hissed suddenly, both from pleasure but mainly due to them being cold.

"S-shit, your hands are fuckin' cold!" He growled out between their heated kiss but by no means pushing the man away. Instead, he brought his other knee up on the other side of Ivan's leg and pressed his hips forward for more of an invitation. "Next time you touch me they better be warmed up," he added playfully, nipping at the older's bottom lip before resuming their fierce battle for dominance.

"I can simply warm them against your skin," Ivan teased, sending his fingers up along the younger's stomach to feel the pooling heat there. His hands explored the inviting contours of Alfred's muscles, dipping and feeling each curve as he let their tongues tangle between them a bit.

The sensitive skin along Alfred's stomach quivered under Ivan's roaming hands. While his breath hitched as he smirked at the comment, "why am I not the least bit surprised."

The Russian only grinned, but wasn't about to let the younger win. Never leaving tantalizing tan skin, Ivan swept his hands down to the small of Alfred's back, his fingers now thoroughly warm. He easily slipped them beneath Alfred's pants and the waistband of his underwear to firmly squeeze the tight mounds of Alfred's ass.

Breaking for air, the Russian grinned as he kneaded.

"Well, at least you keep this in good shape," he teased, pulling Alfred forward to press their bodies flush together. At the perfect height - level with Alfred's throat - the silver-haired man licked a patch of vulnerable skin just beneath his Adam's apple before taking an experimental nip at it. It quickly turned into a fierce sucking motion, Ivan eager to leave a thick mark as his hands firmly worked Alfred's tight ass.

Returning to their heated kiss, Alfred's eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled some with an accompanying moan as Ivan's hands molded and squeezed against the American's ass. Each hand easily encompassing each cheek fully, only making Alfred growl with want.

"Of course, I'm quite partial to my glutes," he purred, "but don't go judgin' so soon. That's not very nice." He teased along with the other as he angled his head back to offer his neck to Ivan's lips. He had been about to ask, but a pleased sigh took over the words as Ivan saw to sucking a dark mark against his throat.

"Oh, I can tell." Ivan retorted.

"Emm, Ivan," Alfred purred low as he closed his eyes enjoying the attention as his own hands raked through the Russian's hair.

Ivan felt a surge of possessiveness come over him at hearing his name escape those kiss swollen lips. He answered with his own moan before focusing on the man's previous statement.

Ivan left the red blemish, licking it lightly to enjoy the salty tang of Alfred's skin. "But how am I supposed to know? You haven't shown me any skin," Ivan purred, teeth grazing the blue-eyed man's Adam's apple.

"If the rest of you is as toned as your ass, why don't you let me see?" The Russian mouthed the words against sensitive skin, his hand curling back around to grip the younger's hips and shimmy his clothes up.

Ivan pulled his attention away from Alfred's neck to appreciate the toned stomach exposed to him. He palmed Alfred, letting his fingers fan out to feel all of the quivering muscles beneath his fingertips.

"Lovely," he mumbled in his own tongue, using his free hand to caress the younger's spine lazily. Still in Russian, he pulled Alfred's lips to his, breathing the words hotly into his mouth. "I like my men with plenty of meat on them. I can only imagine how fun you'll be when we're warming up."

Alfred could only moan as the smooth sound of foreign words reached his ears. And with the inflection to Ivan's voice, it sounded almost predatory.

Ivan growled low, body heating rapidly, and moved to pull Alfred beneath him as he pressed down on top of the smaller man after shifting to the side to lay in the bench seats. Bowing to nip his ear, the Russian grinded his hips down on Alfred's, loving the feel of a man willing to fight him for dominance beneath him.

"I don't think I've ever been quite this motivated for a mission before," Ivan whispered into his ear, finally switching back to English for Alfred's sake.

"S-shit, I need to learn another language," Alfred said in a rush of air as he was suddenly pinned beneath the larger man on the bench. He grinded his hips back up to meet Ivan's as he added his own nip to the man's ear. "Better not have called me fat." He teased before sucking the soft flesh between his lips.

"Good motivation goes a long way, and I'm more than eager to help." The American grinned mischievously as he brought a hand up to tug at the scarf that was impeding his own access to delicious skin.

"Come on then, I show you mine, you show me yours." He played, finding the scarf wrapped tighter than he thought.

Ivan's broad hand instantly encircled Alfred's wrist, not altogether painful, but applying enough pressure to make a valid promise that he was being quite serious as he spoke.

"I'd rather you didn't do that," Ivan said, leaning back to straddle Alfred's waist. He released the younger's hand to groom his own fingers back through Alfred's hair a final time.

The shock came suddenly as Ivan's hand was quickly wrapped around Alfred's wrist. He hadn't anticipated such a move, but he would certainly respect the other's wishes. Though, his curiosity he held before was now only that much more heightened.

"Your business is your own. You won't find me the pryin' type." _Doesn't mean I won't try to get close enough to where you'll show me on your own._

"Good. I'm glad we have that mutual respect." Ivan agreed. "And I assure you, I didn't call you fat. Quite the opposite, actually." Ivan smirked devilishly, dipping his body forward to sweep Alfred's arms up and pin them above his head. "In fact, I think you look good beneath me."

Alfred allowed his arms to be pinned above his head willingly enough, though the comment only returned his previous grin.

"You're lucky you didn't. And what makes you think you deserve that spot, hmm?" Alfred inclined as he angled his head down a bit to look up through golden eyelashes, his seductive smirk still playing on his lips.

Flashing his teeth wickedly, Ivan went on, "as to why I deserve to be exactly where I am, well, it could possibly be from the way you were moaning my name. Or maybe the fact you haven't tried to throw me off even once. In my honest opinion," Ivan dipped to press a soft kiss to Alfred's lips. "I'd say," he moved to kiss his jaw, "that you love it," he nipped his earlobe then. Moving to Alfred's collar, he pressed another kiss their, letting his lips linger.

"Just," an accompanying lick.

"Like," followed by a nip to the protruding bone.

"This," and Ivan latched on to suck another fierce mark into Alfred's skin, still pinning his arms, but determined to leave a lasting impression on the American's skin rather than the tiny experiment he'd blemished Alfred's neck with.

As badly as Alfred wanted to moan and buck with need, he wasn't about to be so easily swayed.

"You... cocky sonofabitch." He growled through gritted teeth as he couldn't hide the shudder that ran through his body under the man's ministrations. Much too late to fight off the far more exaggerated possessive mark now on his collar, he wasn't about to allow any more without getting his own turn.

With Ivan leaning down over him, hands holding the American's arms pinned, it didn't allow for his entire weight to be resting on Alfred. With the awkwardness of the narrow bench, Alfred could utilize this all to his advantage.

With a desperate attempt - much to his arousal's disappointment - Alfred rolled his body, throwing Ivan's off balance and sending the man toppling to the floor and onto his back with Alfred coming to lay sprawled across him.

"Ugh, fuck, farther than I thought." He grumbled but shot a look to the older, waggling a finger at him, "I'm not that easy. Give and take is how it's gunna go down." He then moved to straddle Ivan's hips as the other had done him, only he raked his nails up against the cotton of the man's shirt, enjoying the feel of hard muscle beneath. "You don't just get this," he then rolled his hips against Ivan's groin, "without a bit of hard work." He winked.

Ivan grunted.

"Don't complain. You landed on top of me!" The Russian cocked a brow at the finger in his face, having half a mind to bite it just to put the American in his place, but resisted the urge. Bracing on the thick muscles of his legs, Ivan bucked his hips up to meet Alfred's arousal.

He folded his arms back behind his head, enjoying the feeling of Alfred's hands grooming down his toned front.

"So, how exactly does this system of yours work? I don't see the reciprocation," Ivan taunted, grinning up at the American. "I think I've done plenty of work," and he gestured to the budding marks on Alfred's collar and neck. "Where's your effort?"

Alfred raised his brows as he eyed the scarf, toying with an end of it, "you're being a bit protective of that area." He added, though he drifted his hands down to raise the man's shirt up to expose his washboard abs. "Though I could always mark up a little further south." He grinned, running his thumbs along the jet of hip bone before edging slowly more to the center.

"What'll it be?" He slid back, bringing his lips to the pale skin and darting his tongue out for a quick taste. "Or should I just take, as you seemed to feel the need to do?"

"You were offering, remember? All for the good of the mission," Ivan said, running his broad hands up the sides of Alfred's thighs. He had to suppress a shiver at feeling Alfred's tongue take a long swipe at his stomach. The arousal it drummed up in the Russian had him swearing lightly in his native tongue.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Ivan decided he'd rather not entirely lose his composure before the American just yet. He carefully, almost painfully unwrapped the old scarf, suddenly feeling vulnerable without its protection.

"I'm just not fond of remembering scars," he explained now that the mangled mark across the side of his neck was exposed, deforming the skin with a gnarled silver fissure.

Alfred had grinned against the man's heated skin, about to see to placing his own mark on the older's pale skin until the man's words caught his attention. Leaning back up, he felt his curiosity brimming in anticipation as to what Ivan was trying to conceal. Though upon the sight of the long scar he felt the fire in his belly go out, and the pit of his stomach plummet.

"Ahh," he tried to regain his focus, quickly thinking over his options.

_No way this could be him. But, that's a lot of coincidences to not be going down the right path. If it is him, I can't let him suspect anything._

"That's a nasty lookin' scar." He grimaced, his hand tentatively going to touch it but at the last moment recoiling. Instead, he leaned down to pay attention to the opposite side of the man's neck, pressing slow, soft kisses along the man's jaw and throat, all while his brain spun on overdrive. "How'd you get that? If you don't mind my asking," he inquired casually as he continued his attention to the man's neck, using the angle to hide any possible expressions that might give him away.

It had been the response Ivan had expected: horror, disgust, the usual. It didn't exactly faze the Russian anymore. He'd gotten plenty of stares and questions until he'd finally had enough and simply wore his scarf as often as possible, even on warm days. It was just easier than dealing with people gawking.

But he didn't expect the softness of Alfred's lips on his throat. He'd braced for the sharpness of teeth, but certainly didn't mind relaxing into the easier touch.

"I mind, but I suppose it's a rather stupid notion to begrudge you from that information because I don't like dealing with it. It's childish." The Russian sighed wearily, a hand coming up to groom lightly along Alfred's side as memories of blood and the African sun burning his skin flooded his mind.

"Elise set me up with a contract in South Africa. The country is more stable than most in Africa, so I accepted, thinking it would be easy. But as the mission progressed, I found out I'd been serviced to a powerful warlord in Mozambique. The stability of South Africa was just a lure to draw me to the contract.

"I trained his militia, not Spetsnaz quality, but still better than anything he'd ever seen. He was so impressed with me, that he offered - rather, made me - watch his first attempt to use his newly trained soldiers. I sat on the wheel hub of a jeep and watched as his men pitifully attempted to overwhelm private security protecting the nearby oil fields. Angry that his men had been slaughtered, he forced civilians strapped with bombs to run at the oil lines.

"All I remember after that is seeing the barrel of a gun raised past the running civilians, trained on me instead. I was shot at, as they must have thought I was their leader. The bullet only nicked the side of my neck, but I had to be sewn up in a filthy tent or I would have bled out.

"The scar wouldn't have been so bad had the wound not become infected, and I had to terminate the contract to seek proper medical care in Moscow."

Ivan shrugged as he finished, not entirely comfortable, but certainly not paranoid of Alfred's reaction.

Alfred had listened and was immediately thankful his expression was hidden from the Russian. His eyes had widened. His body had begun to shake. The pieces began to fall into place and he felt like his body was about to collapse on top of the man. Disgust coursed through his veins like a poison at what he had been and was still doing, but he was a soldier, and sacrifices needed to be made. It would be foolish to confront the man here, and their mission still needed to see an end.

Refocusing his resolve, he demanded his thoughts to think of someone else's skin he was kissing and marking. Though that thought only made it worse.

"That is... a terrible story. But I haven't heard of a scar with a good one, either." He addressed, stealing into the reserves of his espionage skills to push him through this. Realizing he had paused in his kisses, and knowing the whole reason Ivan had revealed his neck to him was to mark him in turn, Alfred zeroed in at the juncture of neck and shoulder and fiercely sucked his own mark to the surface. It angered him that he would even want to leave such a possessive mark on the man, but perhaps he could look at it as a physical bullseye for his bullet.

Gripping Ivan's shoulder and rutting his hips down forcefully against the Russian's, he finally bit down in the same spot before leaning back up and away - the earlier shock wiped clean from his features and replaced with a smug - how ever fake - smirk on his lips.

"There, now we're even." _For now_.

Ivan furrowed his brows, sensing more than seeing the change in Alfred. The way he stopped then attacked with vigor startled the Russian a moment, having been lost in memories: blood, hospitals lights, the sterile scent of quiet death.

He groaned as the younger withdrew from him, setting his hands back on his thighs. There was a shift that suddenly dimmed the heat he'd felt. He didn't like it, the air felt cold as if the winter chill had crept between them. The Russian blew out a lengthy sigh, patting the younger.

"Alright, come along. Up with you."

Alfred didn't even have to be asked as he was already getting to his feet. As much as his blood was boiling, he had to keep up the facade that nothing was wrong. He then offered Ivan a hand to help the man up to his feet, his other hand fixing his shirt back into place.

"Well, wonder how much longer 'till we get there?" he asked absently, still trying to reign in his emotions. He couldn't believe that this was the man he had aimed at in Africa. The man he had missed. The man who stood by and watched innocents get slaughtered by Alfred's own bullets as they ran at their line; tears in their eyes as bombs weighed them down as they ran.

Ivan sat up, running his fingers back through his now disheveled silver hair in a vague attempt to tame it. The Russian shook his head, taking a moment to smooth down his coat and wrap the scarf around his neck again. He felt himself relax with its familiar warmth around him, and quelled the unease in his stomach. The ugly feeling he had revolting his stomach must have been from the insecurity of being without it before a man like Alfred.

Pulling himself back up onto the bench seat, he stretched out on his back. Hands resting on his stomach, he yawned lazily before letting his eyes slip shut.

"Many, many hours, Alfred. I suggest sleeping. You probably will be craving it for the remainder of this mission. Best to indulge while you can." The Russian looked like he was following his own advice, breathing becoming vapid and his thick chest relaxing its motions.

But after a few minutes of quiet darkness, Ivan wet his lips, and spoke.

"American?"

Alfred had nodded his understanding. Eager to fall asleep though with his thoughts racing he wasn't sure how sound it would actually be. Taking a seat on the adjacent bench he laid down on it, hands back behind his head as a makeshift pillow.

Hearing himself addressed he didn't bother to open his eyes, keeping up an indifference to what just happened. He responded half-heartedly,

"'Sup?"

Ivan tossed his hands up at the unknown response. He asked for God to grant him some way of deciphering these inane American slags in muttered Russian before continuing.

"Don't think I've grown soft, but-" Ivan stumbled over the foreign English, trying to gesticulate with his hands, but failing miserably. When the words just wouldn't come, he grumbled them in his own tongue.

"Thank you for not being repulsed by my scar. I appreciated that," he said earnestly, even if Alfred couldn't understand him. It still felt like the right thing to say after dealing with too many disgusted looks and poor lovers without the decency to hide their distaste.

Feeling far too uncomfortable with such sentiments, Ivan rolled onto his side, a confused growl on his lips. He didn't like the fact that Alfred had forced him to lower his guard, nor that he'd managed to coax the Russian into showing his scar. It just wasn't his usual aloof and professional self.

"Never mind, just go to sleep," he rumbled back at Alfred.

This time Alfred did open his eyes a bit and looked over at the Russian.

_Grown soft? About what?_

Seeing the man flip over on his side, Alfred stared at the man's back. Part of him wished he hadn't learned about the man's scar, but he did feel rather special for having been given the right. The man was so guarded about it. Unfortunately for the Russian, Alfred wasn't the person he should have ever showed it to.

_Near the end of the mission. When our goal is in sight, I'll make it quick and easy._ Even as his thoughts stewed over what he had to do, a strange feeling welled up inside him. He couldn't drop his guard now though. This man had ruined Alfred's life at the necessity of taking innocent lives, and then in turn his failure had followed him back and taken the one man he held dear to him.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he closed his eyes and muttered an agreeable hum before settling in for the remainder of the train ride.

* * *

**Ohohoho! The plot thickens! Off we go, kids! Time for the fun stuff. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3: Charting Expedition

**Bulletproof**

**Chapter 3: Charting Expedition **

* * *

**Reviews: **

**Mokuren no Ken: Haha, their banter is amusing. :)**

**Guest 1: Awwww, thanks~**

**woahicecream: Heh, we are masters of playing your hearts with these characters. ;)**

**Seven of Clubs: We heard you like plot twists in your smut~**

**Guest 2: Thank you!**

**Gemleaf: As you command, my dear. ;)**

**Tamagoakura: Well, it did cause Arthur to die. I mean, that's pretty awful and traumatizing. :(**

**Trahnael: Welp, hopefully we can shed some light on a decent pairing (when done right. I'm not a huge fan of the rape fetish/guro ones I seem to run into often).**

**Austriamochi: AWWW! Thank you, sweetie! I'm glad you like the AU! ^^**

* * *

_God! No! ARTHUR!_

"Ugh!" Alfred bolted awake in his seat, his body drenched in sweat as he shook from the still burning images his dreams had brought back. His hands rubbed at his face to try and clear his vision, already feeling his stomach churn, ready to vomit. It had been a long time since those memories had haunted him in his dreams, and now they had returned.

His eyes slowly drifted to the sleeping form across from him, his fear and sorrow turning to rage coursing through his blood. He didn't even realize he was moving until his hand held his glock, cocked and aimed at the back of the Russian's head. His fingers flexed against the grip of the weapon. It was almost too easy.

_This man... he was the one that day. My first missed shot in my career that cost not only civilian lives, but the love of my life to be taken from me as well._

He gritted his teeth, his body shaking as he tried, wanting desperately to take his revenge. This man had been his contracted kill who got away. Why shouldn't he pull the trigger? Why shouldn't he just end it all now?

_Fuckin' damn it! I can't. Not yet, _he argued with himself, reluctantly putting the handgun away before retreating to his own bench, not wanting to draw suspicion if the man woke up.

_This mission is important. I can't do this on my own. I'll just use him until we've succeeded, and take him out when it's all over._

Curling back up the way he'd been, he feigned sleep, while his mind raced over plots to see his lover's murder silenced for good.

Nearly eleven hours on a train left them plenty of time to sleep. While the Russian wasn't used to so much of it, he certainly didn't complain. Where they were going, sleep would be precious and likely only occur in brief doses as the two of them wouldn't both be allowed rest. There would always need to be a lookout.

Carefully sitting up, Ivan rolled his heavy shoulders to limber the thick muscles of his upper back. He absently rubbed the back of his neck as he blinked lazily, letting the world come into focus. When it did, his violet gaze turned to the sleeping American.

"Alfred," he rumbled, voice thick from sleep. "We should be in Yaroslavl' soon. Get up."

Having been up, Alfred pretended to grumble at the Russian's voice for the need to get up. He was thankful nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The man had definitely been asleep when Alfred had held the gun pointed at his head. At least his cover was still intact.

"Uugh, rather have slept on the floor. Nothin' like bein' cramped up on a train bench for eleven hours." Alfred slowly sat up, cracking his neck and back as he stretched. "Fuck."

Ivan attempted to tame his mussed hair while listening to Alfred complain about the stiff train seats.

"Trust me, the floor is not someplace you'd like to be," he retorted, still not amused by the fact Alfred had literally shoved him onto the floor earlier. Standing up, he felt the train jolt slightly before an announcement came over the cabin speakers to inform the passengers to gather their belongings as they were approaching the Yaroslavl' Glavny train station.

"They're not that bad." He groaned as he got to his feet, reaching up to pull his large duffle bag and weapon case from the rack above them. Hitching his bag over his shoulder, he turned to the Russian expectantly.

"This is our stop. When we get off, we need to find an ATM. Hopefully we can hire a driver to take us out to the woodlands. But from there, we're going to have to walk. I hope your government remember to send you snow camouflage along with your weapons," Ivan said with a smirk.

"Alrighty, lead on," Alfred waved on.

Exiting the train, they were immediately thrust into a throng of people, though nowhere near the mess of the St. Petersburg station. Ivan lead, weaving his way through the crowd to an ATM. The Russian withdrew quite a few 1000 Ruble notes and stashed it in his back pocket.

"Should be enough to get us out of the city without questions," Ivan said as he led them out to the street before flagging down a taxi. Ivan leaned on the car, talking to the driver and explaining that they needed to be taken well outside the city, but that Ivan was willing to cover the odd fee. When the driver agreed, Ivan motioned for Alfred to put his gear in the trunk as he did before climbing into the backseat.

The drive was a bit long, but Ivan passed it by watching the scenery slowly change from big city to suburban to countryside. Alfred didn't seem too eager to talk, which perturbed the Russian a bit given their earlier bantering. Something had changed on that train ride, something that didn't sit well with Ivan at all despite the fact he couldn't identify just what that something was.

Their driver stopped the taxi as the road started to turn hazardous, and offered an apologetic smile. Ivan rolled his eyes but handed the man more than enough to cover the fee. The driver thanked them with a lazy grin before Ivan got out and retrieved their gear.

A hefty sigh escaped the violet-eyed man as they were left to stand in the cold and snow, watching the taxi vanish into a haze of white.

"If Elise's information is correct, and I doubt it isn't, then the meth lab we're looking for is hidden inside a bunker complex left over from the second World War. I'd guess it would be in the hills," he said, motioning to the path sloping upwards into the sleeping trees.

Dropping his duffel bag, Ivan knelt beside it to pull out his heavy snow camouflage jacket and pants. He wore them over his black peacoat and denims. He was extremely quick about removing his shoes in favor of his treaded boots. Flipping the deep hood of the jacket up, he quickly had his AA-12 shotgun strapped over his shoulder at the ready. Glancing over, he waited for Alfred to mostly finish dressing before turning towards the path and beginning the long hike up.

Alfred had followed along in gearing up and was quickly chasing after the large Russian. He had faltered in putting his own boots on as the snow felt like razors to his socked feet in the freezing temperatures. Once he was ready though, the extra layers of clothing really helped fight off the cold.

As he neared Ivan, his eyes lingered over the AA-12 on the man's back. It was a beautiful weapon, finely painted in a flat black finish and perfectly kept. He couldn't help but comment on it.

"Been a long time since I've seen one of those."

Ivan never ceased his strong pace, even as Alfred spoke, wanting to be out of the open trail as soon as possible. He suddenly veered off the path, heading into the woods with an attentive alertness. Waltzing straight into an armed base on the open path was asking to be shot between the eyes.

"I've owned AA-12s ever since I joined the military. This one I made sure to bring with me to Africa, though she only spilled blood once." He glanced back at Alfred. "When you see them, it only means trouble."

Hearing the mention of Africa again only set the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck on end. He really wished he could get the guy to shut-up about Africa. He needed a level head if he was going to let the man live 'till the end of the mission.

"Yeah, I've seen them mow down some targets. Not somethin' I'd like to be in the way of."

Ivan ducked beneath a low hanging branch as they continued on. In an attempt to make conversation, he finally spoke up.

"Barretts are not exactly common either," he said, "when did you get that one?"

Alfred looked down to the case that carried his own weapon.

"Oh, this one..." The one he used now had very little significance to him other than the power and accuracy of the weapon itself. However, the one he had replaced was the one he had trained on. He had never once missed his mark. He was in the top tier of mercenaries, but on that one mission in Africa, when he missed the man who now walked in front of him, he felt a cold death linger on the trigger. Because he had missed his target, he was ordered to take out the bomb-laden civilians Ivan had sicced on him. With their deaths on his hands, all he ever felt was their phantoms attached to his weapon.

"Ahh, it's nothin' special. Pretty new actually. Figured I'd give the A1 model a run," he commented, now finding a need to change the subject once again. "Ahh, so, shouldn't these bunkers be listed on a map? Do we have coordinates? I know we weren't allowed GPS or satellite phones."

"No. This place is long forgotten. The only ones who would know of this place are our enemies, our governments and the dead that lay frozen beneath the icy soil. These bunkers scatter the base of the mountains and all across Western Russia from when Hitler betrayed Stalin and attacked us in World War Two. If we fail here, there will be no one to find us." His forewarning was cut short as he suddenly stopped. They'd reached the crest of a small ridge. The steep slope below lead into the first of many concrete openings that had once been concealed behind camouflaged doors. Over the years, the snow and flora had collapsed them in, leaving gaping holes in the frost-crusted earth.

Ivan slowly moved to a crouch, loosening his shotgun from his shoulder to cradle it against his shoulder. The satin black finish on the weapon would keep light from reflecting off of it, and the snow outfits left Ivan nearly invisible as he moved low to the craggy, icy ground. He peeked through the scope into the large complex that spread out before them, buried into the side of stony hill. From inside, he caught a glimpse of movement, but the scope wasn't strong enough to clearly define anything from the distance.

"Check the complex, I can't get a decent range on this scope." Ivan shifted, moving to carefully inch his way down the slope. "Get what numbers and positions you can, then follow me," he whispered back up to the American.

Without falter, Ivan walked into the dark threshold of the underground entrance as he flicked on a Maglite, holding it beneath the barrel of the AA-12 The bright beam illuminated the walls, showing the decaying plant life that had shriveled with Winter's coming. As he scanned the first room he entered into, his violet gaze alighted on large crates stacked against the wall, along with tables, maps and strewn about tools all damaged beyond the point of recognition. Most of the rotten furniture was broken and the lone light that dangled from loose wiring clearly wasn't about to work.

Alfred had nodded his agreement as he got down low to the ground. He watched briefly as Ivan disappeared into one of the busted entryways into the bunker. They were still far from the enemy's main congregation, but being attached to the same building felt a bit reckless.

Getting back on task, he quietly opened the case to his barrett and pulled out the weapon. Minding where the sun was, he made sure the lens wouldn't come in contact to give off any reflection. Getting down on his belly, he positioned himself at the crest of the hill - hidden behind frostbitten shrubs - he shouldered the rifle and set about taking inventory of their enemy.

_Looks like this section of the bunker isn't high priority. Only two armed patrols walking the perimeter, but armed with... shit, AKs? Certainly not a minor outfit. _He waited a few more minutes, checking to see for any other signs of enemy movement, as well as scoping the area for other possible snipers, as well as good spots for himself to take up.

With a general map of the area in his head, he moved back down the small slope to follow after Ivan.

Slowly approaching the entrance, he pulled out his glock and eased his way with his back to the stone wall. The interior was dark, and there was no sign of Ivan, though the heavy boot prints amidst the dust and dirt gave him something to follow. He also noted that there was only one set of footprints. This area was certainly not being used.

With his voice low, he called out to his new partner.

"Ivan?"

"Over here, American. And keep your voice down!" a harsh whisper resounded from the darkness before Ivan turned the corner, the bright beam of his Maglite illuminating Alfred's figure.

He approached Alfred with the shotgun lowered but still gripped tightly in his hands.

"This portion of the complex seems abandoned. The doors at the far end of the hallway are sealed shut. The only way in and out is through the entrance behind us. The munitions supplies are gone or were never here. This was probably a tactician's or a cartographer's room, judging by all the old maps." He motioned to the warped and worn papers on the wall and table with the muzzle of his gun.

"It's not the best, but it's our safest bet for now. It hasn't been touched in a long time, so I doubt the enemy even knows of this small portion. It's rather far off from the main sleeping quarters and larger facilities if I'm reading that complex map properly."

Ivan shifted his sight to Alfred.

"What did you find out?"

Alfred rolled his shoulder, a little annoyed he'd been told to be quiet. He was being quiet, he was a sniper for fuck's sake!

"We're definitely far from the main hub. They've only got two patrols walkin' the perimeter, but they're packin' AKs. This definitely isn't a light operation they've got goin' on here."

Ivan grimaced at the mention of assault rifles. He hadn't wanted this to turn into a firefight if it came down to it, but he'd known better than to get his hopes up too much.

"Perhaps we'll be lucky. AK-47s are cheap weapons, so this group might be untrained if that's all they can afford." Ivan shook his head, moving to the get a closer look at the complex maps. "Or it could just be they want guns that won't jam or break with the cold. Either way, we are still going to be heavily outnumbered and outgunned."

Slinging the AA-12 across his back again, Ivan traced an imagined route of attack through the complex.

"Without knowing the exact number of enemies, we won't be able to plan a strategic offensive. We're going to need to do reconnaissance to establish as accurate a number as we can get. But it's inadvisable now. We'll wait until the sun sets to give us the most cover. Agreed? Or did you have a better plan?"

Alfred shook his head.

"'Bout the same conclusion I came to. Though..." he involuntarily shivered, "just the thought of being out there at night is going to be brutal. It's one thing to be moving around, but when you're camped out in a spot like I have to be, the cold cuts to the bone quick."

Ivan smirked, that same knowing and vicious grin that he'd flashed to Alfred at their heated kissing.

"If it's any comfort, you can always come back to warm up with me," he rumbled, before moving back towards the entrance. When he was close enough to see the angle of light, and realized the sun was beginning to set, he returned with orders.

"We have a few hours until night is upon us. I suggest resting after that long hike if we intended to be crouched and creeping all night. That kind of terrain and cold does damage to the joints quickly." Ivan sat himself down against the far wall, laying his shotgun across his lap as he patted the ground for Alfred to sit beside him and hopefully share body heat.

Alfred eyed the obvious intention for a brief moment, knowing he wanted the warmth of the other man, but not desperate just yet. He would need to keep up pretenses that there was nothing wrong. For him to suddenly be adverse to warming up with the man - which was strategic in its own right, even if they took it to a more extreme method - Ivan would certainly question what was wrong. He wasn't in the mood to think up a lie he'd need to adhere to.

"Good idea," he agreed, though rather than sitting down beside the Russian, he brought his barrett up onto the lone desk and began to look it over, striping a few of the pieces for some brief maintenance to make sure everything was in proper order. He hadn't used the weapon in some time, and shelf life wasn't always kind. "Though first, my girl needs a little TLC."

Ivan scoffed, but instinctively held the AA-12 closer. The beloved weapon had always been a familiar comfort to him. Though was a tad bit confused by the acronym he was quite unfamiliar with.

"TLC?" he repeated, obviously looking for an explanation.

Alfred smirked, teasing, "and here I took you for a girl band kind of guy." Alfred chuckled under his breath, though he stopped a moment realizing what he was doing.

_Why am I joking around? I can't get soft now._

Clearing his throat he answered, "TLC is tender loving care." He then resumed stripping his weapon, his attention completely on his work.

Ivan furrowed his brows, still equally as confused he was before. But he didn't exactly like looking so foolish or ignorant, and left it at that with an annoyed huff, but did add his own commentary.

"I'll have you know I'm not particularly fond of any of your strange American music. It makes no damned sense." The Russian shrugged into his heavy coat a bit more, a faint draft picking up and chilling him now that he lacked physical exercise to keep his muscles warmed.

Alfred shivered as he paused in his work before continuing the neutral topic.

"American music: that's a pretty broad sweep. I know Russia's not all classical and opera." He had checked most of the barrett's components and was pretty satisfied with their condition. He then began to put the weapon back together as he added, "what kind of music do you listen to anyway? Or do you prefer the sound of your commie propaganda?" he chided, nudging his boot against Ivan's side teasingly.

Ivan growled at the Communist joke.

"The Soviet Union dissolved years ago. I do not support governments that leave their people starving." The big Russian grabbed Alfred's ankle lightly, tugging faintly. He wanted the younger's warmth to share, and maybe steal a kiss or two.

He softened though as he spoke fondly of music though, glad to move away from politics.

"I love classical music, yes - preferably with a deep cello - but when I studied in England, I found I quite enjoyed their older rock bands. And well-" Ivan staggered, feeling a bit embarrassed for admitting it, but the heavy beats and bass drops of the London underground always fascinated him, though he'd been looked at rather stupidly for suggesting it when he'd returned home. "I think they call it dubstep these days?"

Alfred laughed lightly.

"I know, I know. Russia's cool now." Getting the gist from the movement, he finished putting his barrett together and finally took a seat down beside the Russian.

As Ivan spoke, he had been about to comment on the man's interest in dubstep, but the thought of England sent a sharp pang through his chest as he hissed inwardly through his teeth.

_That's right. Arthur is dead because I didn't kill this guy when I had the chance. Arthur..._

Wrapping his arms around himself tightly, he buried his face into the thick collar of his jacket as he tried to force the pain away.

"It's fuckin' cold..." his voice was muffled, but he had lost his earlier interest in their conversation.

Ivan sensed another of these dramatic shifts in the air between them. It pissed him off to no end that he couldn't figure just why they kept happening. When had the first time been triggered? When he'd spoken of his scar? Now it was over dubstep? Alfred didn't even seem outwardly upset, but the strange stiffness and subtle measure didn't elude his Spetsnaz training.

Determined to rid the tension away, Ivan looped an arm around the American's neck to pull him close. Bowing his head some, he tipped Alfred's chin so he could brush his lips against the younger's.

"I'm warm," he purred.

Being pulled close and having the Russian's lips brushing against Alfred's own quickly set the American's blood pumping, but his mind was still being thwarted by memories.

He shot his gaze away to the side but remained in the Russian's grip. He couldn't meet those violet eyes, not while his thoughts were on Arthur. It felt like such a betrayal to his memory. Even though it wasn't out of love, any sort of intimacy with the man who was ultimately Arthur's killer felt entirely wrong. How important was this mission? They were suppose to just be busting a drug lord, but Alfred's instincts screamed at him that there was more to it than that. A feeling that even more innocents would be hurt if this mission wasn't carried out.

Fighting with himself, he finally relented, and with a warm sigh against the man's chapped lips, he whispered, "you are," before closing the gap and sealing his lips against the older's.

Ivan grinned against the American's lips, and moved softly against him for a moment. But once he got a taste of Alfred, his blood heated beneath pale skin, a sluggish warmth crawling through his veins. The easy kiss quickly turned to one of force as Ivan pressed back with an almost bruising force, repeating his aggression from the train ride to tangle his tongue with the blue-eyed man's.

While his mouth was busy, the Russian carefully pushed his shotgun aside, and turned his hips some to pull Alfred into the curve of his body.

"You see?" he whispered breathlessly upon withdrawing. "Nice and warm." His hands skimmed up and down Alfred's side as he nipped his bottom lip. "Now then, care to keep warm with me a bit longer?" he mused aloud, hugging Alfred to his flank, teeth grazing his jaw suggestively.

Once Ivan pulled back from the kiss, Alfred was surprised by the shudder in his breathing. Since the incident, Alfred had only felt the touch of others merely to fight off the loneliness that came on occasionally. However, none of them had stirred such a reaction as this man had in him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it scared him.

Finding his voice having left him. Alfred simply nodded to Ivan's want and moved a bit closer. He couldn't bring himself to do much though. Warring emotions were not something he was used to, and Ivan seemed to have set off WW3 inside the American's mind and body. The outcome was looking bleak.

The lack of retort bothered Ivan more than it should have. Since when was the quirky American silent about anything? He looked down, wanting to ask what had come over him, but he noted the almost faraway look Alfred's eyes, and knew it all too well. He was sure his own eyes took on that same glaze when he remembered becoming an orphan overnight, or when thinking of the brutal African warlord he'd once been forced to serve.

Growling out a sigh, Ivan simply wrapped his arms around the younger. He took pity on the man, that was all. Everyone had their past and Ivan could relate to having an awful one.

_I'm getting soft in my old age..._

"Get some rest. I'll wake you when it's your turn to take watch."

Alfred nodded as he blew out a sigh, relieved Ivan didn't push him any further. The man was rather considerate, but not enough to keep Alfred from remembering this was disgusting enough to strap bombs to innocent civilians.

Forcing it from his mind, he tucked against the man for his warmth, though paused when he realized he had nuzzled against the soft cotton of the scarf the man always wore.

_This scarf... if only he'd kept it on. This would have been so much easier then._

With his thoughts still belligerent, he tried to force himself to sleep as the cold bit at his back.

Ivan sat still as the American drifted off, the tiniest of smiles on his lips when Alfred nuzzled into his scarf more. The older shook his head, grooming a hand back through Alfred's hair before settling in for a few hours of watch.

And when the time came to wake the younger, Ivan shook his shoulder gently, hoping not to startle him awake. That typically ended badly with highly trained killers like themselves.

"Hey, up with you, lazy American. I let you sleep too long as it is."

Alfred woke, feeling rather groggy, but surprised at just how restful it had been. In fact, he felt better than he had with eleven hours on the train ride.

Clearing his throat he leaned his head back a bit to look up at the Russian.

"Alright then, your turn." With his mind still hazy with sleep, and without realizing it, he angled his head upwards to press a few soft kisses along the man's strong jaw. "Better be ready to move out when I wake you. I don't care to be out there too long."

"Hypocrite," Ivan teased in good nature, his gloved fingers grooming the soft hairs at the nape of Alfred's neck. "Telling me to be up in an instant when you're the one still curled up with me." He did his best to hide the little of bit of unidentifiable pleasure bubbling up in his system. It wasn't the usual heat he felt when aroused, but something more passive and less scalding.

Ivan decided it was simply experiencing something new. He'd never known the softness of gentle kisses along his jaw. The sharp, rough bite of a good fuck was far more familiar. Just dealing with the animal need for release and dominance were all he took lovers for. But Alfred wasn't exactly a lover, so allowing a little bending of the rules was alright.

_Right?_

Ivan tilted his head down to press a kiss to Alfred's lips, letting them linger there as he spoke.

"Need help waking up? You seem rather groggy," he offered with a deep rumbling purr from within his thick chest.

Alfred hadn't comprehended a word that Ivan said, more or less enjoying the sound of the man's heavy accent as he spoke. All he knew was he wanted more of those lips on his own.

"Help, yes," he mumbled out, too busy bringing his hands up to run through silver hair and meeting the older's lips again. This time he pressed back a bit more needily. His tongue darting out to lick along the Russian's lower lip before biting lightly. His body was beginning to warm up much quicker now, and the restfulness that was bogging him down slowly began to ebb.

"Gladly." The Russian chuckled before complying with Alfred's needy kiss. Tilting his head for a better angle, Ivan helped the American stir with an open-mouthed kiss, flicking his tongue across Alfred's to stir him a bit. It wasn't long though before his instincts naturally picked up as heat flooded his body. Cupping the nape of Alfred's neck, he squeezed lightly, rolling his thumb in the kinked muscle and much more heatedly kissed the younger.

Beginning to feel himself become more awake, realization began to dawn on him. He hadn't intended to be lulled so easily into this, but he wasn't about to play the coy maiden, especially not with Alfred's true feelings for Ivan returning to the forefront of his mind.

With an aggressive growl, Alfred finally found the strength and rolled Ivan back against the wall they'd been rested up against, the American coming over to straddle the man's legs in the process. Repositioned and with more of an advantage, Alfred fought back against the kiss, wanting his own dominance over the man. Tongues tangling, he pressed back, wanting to be inside Ivan's mouth, greedily wanting to hear the older moan with his want for Alfred.

_I might have moaned your name before, but that was before I knew who you were. Now, I want to hear my name come from those lips. You're going to want me. Beg for me. Plead for me. Those eyes will be wide with hurt, as I rest the barrel of my gun between them. I want you to hurt the way I hurt, when you took Arthur away from me - if only for that short moment your heart still beats._

Ivan hadn't expected Alfred to be so aggressively in his lap and forcing him back against the wall. It startled him a moment, and he found Alfred suddenly reversing Ivan's original intent. It didn't deter the Russian though. This could be a rather fun game if that's what Alfred wanted to play.

While he didn't submit, he eased himself some to lull Alfred deeper into the game. Besides, he certainly didn't mind the younger's fiery return and the feel of the American in his mouth and in his lap. Ivan got an arm around Alfred's waist to keep him with the Russian, while his other hand gripped his jaw.

The violet-eyed man may have went lax for a time, but he began to press back harder again, wanting to force Alfred to work for this. Let the younger think he could dominate the older; Ivan wasn't about to lose to some spry American mercenary. Gripping him tightly, Ivan grinned into the kiss, a burning thrill in his blood.

Alfred felt the heat rising in him again as it had on the train. Gaining the upper hand on the man sent his nerves ablaze. He hadn't initially anticipated this reaction when the thought came over him, but it didn't last long before Ivan began to take over.

He found himself retreating, trying to force his tongue against Ivan's but losing ground quickly. Before he knew it Ivan was dominating him once more, and he felt something between a whine and a moan begin to bubble up in his throat.

Finally, after more willpower than he realized he needed, Alfred wrenched back away from Ivan, but still kept in place by the man's hand at his waist.

"Alright, alright, I'm awake. Shit," he grumbled, bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw from the practically vise-like grip the man had held him in.

Ivan rumbled a throaty chuckle, brushing his knuckles along Alfred's jaw where he'd held him fast.

"Good," Ivan started smugly, "I always get the job done, no matter the task." Nipping lightly, he gave Alfred earlobe a quick lick before he released the man. That lovely whine Alfred had made still rang in the Russian's ears, leaving him with a satisfied smirk gracing his thin lips.

Bring a hand up, he rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heel of his palm.

"Unless you want to sit in my lap as I sleep, would you mind moving?" Grinning with a devilish playfulness, Ivan lightly ghosted his fingers under Alfred's jacket, gloved fingers brushing the heated skin on his hip. "Not that I mind you in my lap, that is."

"You're really cocky, ya know that? Commie bastard," Alfred growled, shivering briefly as Ivan's gloved hand touched skin.

"I have every reason to be," Ivan retorted with a smug tone. The Russian moved to lie down on his side, grumbling back a, "hush, Capitalist pig," before he let the cold lull him back to sleep after the heat dwindled from his system.

Clearing his throat, he shifted off the Russian to rest back against the wall. Crossing his arms over his chest to take his turn at watch.

"Alright, get some rest. I'll wake ya."

Alfred had settled back, content to wallow in his thoughts on what he was to do with Ivan, though he didn't have long before the man had finally fallen asleep.

_Like hell I'm goin' to sit around here for the next four hours. I can get plenty done without him at me._

Moving slowly as to not wake the Russian, Alfred grabbed up his rifle and quietly made for the single entrance out into the fading light. There wouldn't be much to watch for here. The lack of footprints in the area made it abundantly clear they had a safe place to set up as a base.

Taking a final look behind him at the busted entryway, he wondered just how long this whole mission was going to take. Whether he'd be able to wait as long as it took before he needed to end Ivan's life. He didn't like the idea of having to wait so long. The man was already doing a number of getting under the American's skin. When the time came, he couldn't hesitate. Once Ivan was onto him, he wouldn't go down easy. There was just something telling Alfred he needed to really find out the kind of strength this man had, and he had a feeling he knew just how to invoke such a response.

Turning back around he then set off to scout the area. He'd bring back plenty of information on their enemies movements and locations, along with whatever he could sneak into the facility and get. Part of their mission was to procure necessary items on site. They had few provisions with them, and would certainly need more if this job lasted as long as Alfred thought.

He had been gone for a few hours, and was grinning from ear to ear at the success of his lone venture. He had located more of the enemy, and could easily recount their locations on the map they had of the facility back at base. Not only that, but he had been lucky and found a vehicle loaded with recently purchased - or stolen - provisions. Along with one particular item he felt would come in handy.

Stepping back into their small base of operations, Alfred was immediately relieved at the distinct temperature difference thanks in part to the bunker being so heavily enclosed. It wasn't a major change - he wouldn't be stripping out of his thickly lined winter camo - but the difference from having been in the dreaded elements themselves to inside was noticeable.

Resting his barrett on the ground at the door, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. He didn't sense the Russian was where he had left him. So as slow as he could, he reached for his glock and quietly called out to him.

To say Ivan was unamused would have been an understatement. The way he brought forth undocumented and unapproved training learned in the dead of winter - usually with a sheen of blood and sweat across his skin - to silently stalk behind Alfred should have said that. The instant he was within reach, a bone-breaking grip went around Alfred's wrist holding the glock and he held an Irbis knife to Alfred's throat.

He was glad he stood behind Alfred, where he couldn't see the furious snarl on his lips. Rumbling a deep growl from within his chest, he pressed the blade against Alfred's skin.

"You fucking idiot!" he managed in English. "Do you have any idea how furious I am? I thought you could have been dead! I thought you could have been captured, being tortured or worse!" But the rest was lost in snarled Russian until his chest, flush to Alfred's back, heaved.

Alfred's eyes widened in shock, surprised at just how well the large Russian had stealthily managed to come up from behind him. He didn't really expect the man to have been still sleeping, but his reaction was certainly intense.

"Shit! English, man! English! And get this fuckin' knife away from my throat!" He dropped the glock for good measure. The weapon spinning away uselessly on the stone floor. "Come on, relax, man. I didn't blow our cover or nothin'. Just chill."

Ivan thrust the knife back into his belt, but wrenched Alfred around to face him before balling his fists in the American's collar.

"Chill?" he snarled in English, a bit calmed by Alfred's voice. "It's cold enough, Alfred. God save you from me! I worried about you! I just spent two hours pacing this room like a caged animal thinking you might be dead!"

Alfred tried to lean back away from Ivan upon hearing his words. His eyes widening now more than they had when the knife was at his throat.

_He... worried about me? That was his biggest concern? Not that I might get caught and blow the mission, but specifically about me? No... no, it couldn't be that. He just worried that he'd lose his partner in this difficult mission._

With an awkward laugh, Alfred brought his hands up to wrap around Ivan's at his collar. Patting them gently he responded,

"Hey, we're all good now, right? You've gotta give me a bit more credit than that. I _was_ hand-picked for this job as you were. You'd think I'd get caught that easy?" he joked, trying to ease the Russian further.

Ivan grunted, but dropped his hands at the touch. He could have thrashed the American for the trouble he'd put him through.

"You may be good, but you're still an idiot!" Ivan retorted. "You had better have brought back something useful for this."

Alfred's eyes went from wide to glinting with mischievous glee. He took a step back from Ivan, pulling off his pack and kneeling down beside it.

"Am I such an idiot now?" Alfred grinned up at the Russian, slowly pulling out two full bottles of vodka and waving them at him suggestively. "Oh, there's also beef jerky, and 'round twenty-five to thirty armed guards patrolling or stationed around the entirety of the bunker," he lowered his voice, "which is fuckin' huge, by the way." Looking at one of the bottles in his hand, he turned his gaze back up to the man and waggled it provocatively.

"Peace?"

Ivan snatched the bottle, turning it over in his hands and eying it with approval. He grunted before nodding and tucking it under his arm.

Offering a hand to get Alfred up, he made motion for them to settle back where they'd been sleeping earlier.

"Since I can't say no to decent liquor, I suppose I have to agree to your peace treaty. Though I'll break your leg if you think to do it again. Now then," Ivan grinned devilishly, his anger having dissipated, "let's enjoy some of your spoils."

"Awesome!" Alfred grinned as he took his own seat and rested back against the wall, beyond thrilled with his job well done. "Though, I have to say, I'm more of a rum guy," he added as he unscrewed the cap of his own bottle. This wasn't exactly the greatest idea. Getting drunk on the job wasn't too smart, but with the temperatures they were facing, a little alcohol would be a good way to warm up.

"Hmm, what should we drink to?" He smiled, his earlier hate for the man beside him gone for the moment to simply bask in his success and good booze in general.

"To me and my patience!" Ivan grinned, downing a gulp of the fiery liquid with practiced ease. "I should have at least broken a finger or two for that little stunt." The Russian playfully elbowed Alfred's side, more than happy to rejoice in alcohol.

Alfred laughed.

"I was gunna say to a successful mission but that works too." He grinned, tilting the bottle back and taking a swig. Lowering it down again, he shook his head as the alcohol slid down his throat and warmed his insides. If nothing else had come from his little excursion, the alcohol had been worth every minute of it.

"I like vodka," Alfred began lazily after taking another swig, "but I'd still go for some rum any day."

"Vodka is better," Ivan commented, taking another sip, "always." Leaving no room for argument, he grinned down at Alfred. After taking another draught, he set the bottle on his thigh, swirling it absently as he let the alcohol burn its way into his system like a dull fire. He didn't want to necessarily get drunk, not here at least, but relaxing with the familiar ail-killer was always nice.

Turning his head, he gazed down at the American still nursing his drink. The man had always been attractive, but Ivan licked his lips at just how good the younger looked handling a drink Ivan had a terrible fondness for. Combining good looks and good alcohol was starting to be too much of a temptation.

Making sure the bottle was settled on the ground, Ivan let a gloved hand casually wander to touch Alfred's thigh, gauging the American for some kind of resistance to the motion.

Alfred had relaxed his head back against the wall. Eyes shutting a moment as he let out a sigh. He had taken a longer draught - after seeing Ivan do so and not wanting to be shown up - and could already feel a comfortable buzz starting. He couldn't go too far, as if they were suddenly attacked - even though he had covered his tracks and knew for a fact he hadn't been followed - he needed to still be able to hit his target. That specific target being an enemy... even though technically Ivan was his enemy. But that was a minor detail now as he slowly opened his eyes to look sidelong at the Russian, having noticed the suggestive touch to the American's thigh.

"What? You finish yours already? Damn lush." He grinned, feeling his face warm a bit, and unsure whether it was only the effects of the strong liquor.

"Not quite," Ivan drawled, finding English getting harder and harder to speak with each passing second. "But I think I want the taste of something else too," that said, he squeezed Alfred's thigh before moving forward to steal a light kiss. He licked Alfred's bottom lip, tasting the lingering flavor of the vodka there. Unable to resist such a coupling, the Russian darted his tongue into Alfred's mouth, his hand also moving more intimately to thumb at Alfred's zipper.

Alfred had made to retort but it was quickly lost as Ivan's tongue was thrust into the American's mouth. With the alcohol in his system, any of his previous thoughts of wanting to kill the man seemed moot as he met Ivan's tongue with his own. The hand at his zipper didn't go unnoticed either, and Alfred was immediately growling into their kiss with heated desire.

"If you want this..." he trailed off while pulling back a moment, "you're goin' to need to work for it." He nipped at Ivan's lower lip, gazing deeply into those violet eyes, steadily being overtaken by lust filled pools of black. "After all, you slept all damn day."

The devilish grin on Ivan's face could have put Satan himself to shame. He pressed his lips to Alfred's ear, growling heatedly against the pliable skin.

"You already worked my nerves with your vanishing act. I think that deserves some compensation," Ivan returned, but quickly felt the need for the physical again. "But I'll play nice. What exactly do you want?" the Russian rumbled, taking the younger's earlobe between his teeth and nibbling lightly.

Biting back a moan as his earlobe was nipped at, Alfred grinned as he snaked a hand around Ivan's waist to squeeze at the older's ass in answer.

"I want exactly what you want, but only one of us is 'havin' it our way.'" He smirked, playfully teasing as he angled his head to kiss and nip at the man's jaw.

"Mmm, we both know it'll be me," Ivan said, validating his point as he used his superior weight to wrestle Alfred to the ground on his back. He didn't give the American much time to protest either as he hungrily attacked his mouth with a domineering kiss. Besides, Ivan didn't want words deciding exactly who was on top of who.

Alfred welcomed the sudden force from the older. That cocky and determined attitude was sending jolts of pleasure through him as he relented to the man. As much as Alfred had his own pride and cockiness, he loved the challenge Ivan presented to him with such a like-minded personality. It churned the fire in his gut, forcing his want by pressing his hips upwards to meet the Russian's. Grinding against the man, he was looking for friction as well as a lull in the man's defenses.

Ivan met Alfred's raunchy motions with an eagerness displayed in the hungry growl emitted from his throat. Feeling Alfred submit beneath him sent Ivan's blood ablaze with want, and as he drew back from the rough kiss, he bit at the younger's lower lip.

"Give up yet? Or have I not worked hard enough for this?" he asked slyly, wedging a hand between them to grope Alfred's groin.

Alfred grit his teeth, bucking into Ivan's hand, his erection already growing with the fire throbbing through his veins. This time he did utter a moan, giving in to Ivan a bit more while sensing the man weakening his grip on the American. It was finally his chance, and with his hands on Ivan's chest, he quickly threw his weight against the man and off to the side, successfully catching the Russian off guard and pinning the man beneath the American.

With a smug smirk, Alfred grinned down at him, taking the man's scarf in a tight grip and tugging him up to his face as he said, "nah, not givin' up yet."

* * *

**:D **


End file.
